


What We Don't Know Can Hurt Us

by ObsidianRomance



Series: Making Time 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from the following prompt at mpregwinchester - Sam didn't realize he was pregnant until he loses the baby as a consequence of hunting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Don't Know Can Hurt Us

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Wincest, cursing, ANGST, mpreg!Sam, miscarriage, blood  
> Beta: tsubasalove87  
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just using them for fun.  
> Authors Note: This is me taking the events of episode 1.18 "Something Wicked", warping them, and hoping it still makes sense to you. Thanks for reading!!! I hope the OP likes the fill!

“Sam!”  Dean rapped on the motel’s bathroom door with the back of his hand.  “Sammy, come on.”  He huffed in annoyance and then knocked again.  “Sammy!”  When nothing happened, he screwed up his face in confusion, his features morphing to the worry that always hid behind them when it came to Sam.  “You alright in there, Sam?”  
  
This time, the door pushed open and Sam sulked out.   “I’m fine.”  He kept his eyes down as he brushed past Dean and headed towards his duffel on the floor.  
  
“Funny, you don’t look fine.”  Dean pivoted on his heels and followed Sam’s movement.  
  
“You haven’t done much looking lately, so I don’t know if you are the best judge of that at the moment.”  All of a sudden there was a sting in Sam’s words that seemed to surprise him as well as Dean.  
  
Eyes wide and head pulled back at the verbal slap, Dean stared at his brother for a moment, watching Sam hastily shove rumpled clothing in his bag.  “Sam, you…”  
  
“I’m fine.  I said I was fine, and Dean?  I’m fine.”  Sam squared his jaw and threw his duffel over his shoulder.  “Are we going to do this?”  
  
Dean reached out a hand and yanked Sam, forcing him to turn around and finally face him full on.  “I know things have been tough lately, we haven’t had much down time and things have been piling up against us.  It’s not that…It’s not…you’re not…”  It was as close to an apology as Dean can get out of his mouth but his eyes speak a different story.  The tension in the room put him on edge.  
  
Defenses falling, Sam sighed deeply.  He shook his head gently, look softening as he lets Dean’s words and the meaning behind them sink in.  “Yeah, I know…Look, it’s not just you.  I just feel, I dunno.  Maybe everything is getting to me too.”  Scratching at the back of his neck, Sam looked up and a flash of the Sam Dean knew and loved popped through.  
  
Cocky grin creeping onto his face, Dean raised an eyebrow.  “See, told you.  Not okay.”  
  
Sam huffed and punched Dean lightly in the shoulder.  “It’s nothing I can’t push past.  I’m just having one of those days.”  
  
“Or months…”  
  
Narrowing his eyes at his brother, Sam scowled.  He couldn’t, however, snap back with any type of retort.  He knew his brother was right; his head hadn’t been completely in the game for a while.  “Yeah, well…or months.”  Shrugging, he tried to force a smile.  “I’m okay though.  Really.”  
  
Not totally convinced, Dean squinted at him and tried to dissect the truth.  “Are you, Sam?  Because, I need to make sure you’ve got my back if we are going to do this.”  
  
 “I’m good.”  He let his hand brush against Dean’s where their fingers did an awkward dance of making sure they were both in the moment.  “I’ve got the consecrated iron rounds and I say we kick some Shtriga ass so we can both get out of here.  
  
“That’s the Sammy I know and love.”  Dean’s fingers caught hold of Sam’s whole hand, squeezing tightly.  
  
Sam couldn’t help himself, he fell in alongside Dean and stayed there for a moment.  They didn’t talk or make any other moves, but it was enough for them to feel the connection between them that had grown into its own force to be reckoned with.  
  
Finally, Dean broke the moment.  “Well if you say you’re good, then that’s enough for me.”  Pulling away, he gave a grin.  “Ready to go be the good guys?”  
  


*************************

  
Somewhere along the line, their plan took a left turn and spilled through their finger tips.  
  
The Shtriga proved to be more difficult to handle than their father’s journal had let on and it was faster than they anticipated.  Using a child as bait proved almost pointless because once it realized that Sam and Dean were laying in wait, the thing was off like a shot, leaving a partially drained child and two hunters with their target missed.  
  
Sam chased after it, long legs taking quick strides and doing their best to keep up.  It was a losing battle but Sam tried anyway.  
  
He had a shot gun full of their specialized ammo, but when he shot it was pointless because he was aiming for a rapidly moving target.  Even if he hit the thing, it wouldn’t matter.  Their only window for success was while it was feeding.  
  
Dean tried to keep up, but try as he might, he was still far enough from his brother to miss pieces of what was going on.  
  
Out of nowhere the Shtriga slammed into Sam, sending the hunter to the floor and the shotgun skidding across the floor towards Dean’s feet.  
Dean’s breath hitched when Sam’s back arched, his body suddenly impossibly tense, and he choked on a surprised intake of air.  The thing was hovering menacingly above Sam, it’s mouth open but the weird supernatural light spilling out of it wasn’t aiming towards Sam’s face, it landed somewhere along his abdomen.  
  
Eyes screwed shut, Sam let out a groan that turned into a strangled cry as the creature kept intensified its actions.  
  
Without processing what was going on, Dean had the shotgun in his hands, took two angry steps towards the pair and shot, aim spot on.  His movements became one fluid chain of events, shooting twice more before throwing the gun aside and breaking into a sprint towards his brother.  
  
The rounds worked like a charm, and the Shtriga’s moves went static before its existence was wiped of the planet.  It was several minutes too late because Sam is still having trouble breathing, weird pained gasps coming from his mouth and breaking Dean’s heart by the time the older man is on his knees beside him.  
  
“Sammy!”  He ran his hands over Sam’s body, working instinctively to see where the damage rested.  Visibly, Sam looked fine, which prompted a curse from Dean’s mouth.  External wounds were easier for him to treat.  The internal kind…those were always tricky.  Sam’s eyes were still blown wide in pain and he  was staring ahead blankly, unaware of Dean’s presence.  “Sammy, hey, Sammy!  What’s going on?”  
  
A tremor ran down Sam’s body and he gasped, middle tensing and forcing him to lurch his upper torso forward.  “Dean!”  
  
“Hey, it’s okay Sammy.  I sent that fucker back where it belongs.  It’s okay.”  But it clearly wasn’t and Dean didn’t know why.  His father had said that killing the Shtriga would return the life force to all those that it had drained, but Sam just seemed to be getting worse.  
  
Sam struggled to move, trying to crawl backwards and away from the pain, but it stayed with him.  He grit his teeth and groaned again, hands flying to his middle and pressing tight as the pain radiated through him.  “Fuck, Dean.  It hurts.”  
  
“Hurts where?”  
  
Sam blinked up at Dean; even in the darkness he could see the fear in his eyes and the devastation from not having an answer as how to fix things.  “Here.”  He pushed Dean’s hand along his abdomen, leaving it there long enough for Dean to feel his muscles spasm and tighten.  
  
Pulling Sam closer so that most of his younger brother’s weight was leaning against him, Dean let out a gasp of his own.  There was something dark and wet seeping through the seat of Sam’s jeans.  When he pulled Sam towards him, it left a dark streak of a trail on the floor; Dean cursed.  He didn’t need to investigate further to know that it was blood.  The metallic tinge in the air clued him into it.  However, he did run his hands along the seam of Sam’s pants to pinpoint the source, stomach rolling when his fingertips came into contact with the sickening heat of fresh blood at the juncture between his brother’s legs.  “Shit.”  
  
“Dean?”  Sam struggled to breathe but the intensity of the pain made his lungs work with spastic movements.  
  
What he saw before, the Shtriga focusing on Sam’s abdomen and swaying from its usual course of action, started to make sense and not make sense at the same time.  The only reason for the creatures change in ritual was impossible because Sam definitely wasn’t pregnant.  They were careful.  Male pregnancies were rare, but they weren’t unheard of.  Dean figured early on that Sam was an exception to many rules and they both did their part to ensure safe sex.  
  
But the blood and the pain didn’t make any sense when Dean applied different scenarios to them.  
  
Sam let out a gasp, prompting Dean to pull him closer.  This was the type of situation that wasn’t outlined in their father’s journal.  He was pretty sure there was no section on how to help your brother deal with a supernaturally induced miscarriage.  And since that was the case, Dean knew they needed help.  
  
He hadn’t carried Sam since they were younger and Sam was much smaller than he was now.  But without a better option, Dean hoisted himself to his feet, hooked one arm under Sam’s and the other under the crook of Sam’s knees and pulled him into his arms.  It was awkward but the adrenaline helped and he got Sam into the Impala’s rear seat.  “Hey, Sam?  I’m going to get you help.  It’s going to be okay.”  
  
The younger Winchester’s only response was curling in on himself and wrapping both hands around his middle.  He let out a pathetic moan that could have been Dean’s name or a curse, but he was too lost in his pain to say anything else.  
  
The ride back to the motel felt longer than the ten miles it actually was.  Dean barely kept the car on the road between making urgent phone calls and braving lingering glances towards the back seat.  
  
Halfway there, while Dean was on the phone with _someone_ , Sam felt a sharp pain and ran a hand between his legs.  His fingers came back coated in cherry red blood, making him want to vomit right there on the spot.  “Dean…it’s getting worse.”  
  
Dean cursed into the phone, voice dropping low enough so that Sam could barely understand him.  If Sam really was pregnant, then there was enough blood to prevent trying to save the baby from being a viable option.  The baby was long gone.  The only thing he was focused on saving was Sam, because the blood didn’t seem like stopping and Dean didn’t know if that was normal or not.  It seems like an awfully large amount of blood to come out of his brother in such a short period of time.  He spoke all these thoughts to the voice on the other end of the call and quickly disconnected.  
  
By the time they were back at the motel, Sam seemed delirious.  Blood loss, confusion, and pain all mingled together to leave Sam in a clammy pale state of shock, blindly clinging to his brother as they made their way inside the room they were certain they would never see again after tonight.  
  
Dean had Sam flopped down on the bed, writhing in discomfort, as he yanked his pants down, revealing streaks of blood on his thighs.  In the bright light of the motel room, there was no escaping from the vividness of the color.  It made him feel sick, but when his brain through of the possible reasons for the blood, he was sicker still, almost gagging in response.  
  
A knock on the door made Dean jump, prior attempts to stay calm obliterated as he made his way across the room with jerky movements and yanked the door open.  
  
The older man on the other side looked far too composed, making Dean feel childlike in comparison.  Harvey had been a contact of their fathers; Dean had even made note of the fact that he was in the area when he and Sam had arrived.  While he didn’t hunt anymore, he still provided a safe haven to hunters who got a little banged up along the way.  
  
He wasn’t a doctor, but he was a veterinarian, and stitching up a dog wasn’t all that different than stitching up a human.  
  
It took Harvey all of ten minutes to assess the situation.  It took him ten seconds to tell Dean that his original assumption had been right.  
  
Sam hurt, but it was residing enough for him to pick up on the words ‘baby’ and ‘miscarriage’ when Harvey took off his bloody gloves and turned to face Dean.  
  
Exposed, legs spread wide and bent at the knee, Sam’s head was reeling.  His middle felt like a vice and if he pushed himself up on his elbows he could see an ugly stain of blood on the mattress between his legs.  Dean looked broken as he took in Harvey’s words, both men so engrossed in their conversation that they startled when Sam found his words.  “I’m pregnant?”  
  
Harvey turned, white whiskers on his face accentuating his sorrowful frown as he nodded sadly.  “You were pregnant.”  He paused when Sam let out an emotionally pained whimper.  “The Shtriga tried to feed off of the fetus’ life force, but it was too young, maybe nine weeks at best, to hold on.  It died before Dean could put a stop to any of it.”  He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder before pulling away to draw a sheet over Sam’s legs to give him some privacy.  “I’m sorry son.  Some things just aren’t meant to be.”  
  
Dean bit his lip stayed silent.  He watched Sam’s face, trying to gauge any reaction but it looked as if Sam shut down.  He let out one last cry before curling his hands around his middle and turning onto his side.  
  
After letting Dean stare for a moment, Harvey pulled Dean out of the room.  “He’s bleeding a lot.  Too much for me to feel comfortable with you letting him stay here.  I know we are not dealing with a normal miscarriage here, and I don’t know how it is going to present itself to trained medical professionals, but if he gets worse, you need to take him to a hospital.  If it doesn’t all pass on its own, and believe me, you’ll know when it does, then he needs more help than either of us can give him.”  
  
Dean had no words.  This wasn’t the type of situation he ever planned on being in so he had no code by which to play by.  Instead, he nodded seriously, shook hands with the man and watched him take his leave before he had the courage to go back in the motel room to face his brother.  
  
When he did return, he walked on egg shells, like one wrong move might shatter Sam despite the fact that he knew better.  Sam wasn’t delicate, but it was easy to forget that fact when Sam was curled up on his side, small pained noises escaping his mouth between shuddering breaths.  
  
“Sam?”  Dean circled the room twice before kneeling at Sam’s beside, fingers gently trying to pry some of the pillow away from Sam’s face.  “Sammy?”  
  
Blinking tear filled eyes open, Sam stared at Dean and choked on a sob.  A million emotions wash over his face, none of them good.  “I didn’t know Dean.  I swear!  I didn’t know.”  He let out another cry, chest shuddering.  Tightening his arms around his middle, he moaned as the muscles cramped up.  “I swear!”  
  
“Ohh, Sam!  No!  I know you didn’t know.  I know, Sammy.”  Dean thought back to Sam’s actions over the past few weeks.  In hindsight, Sam’s moodiness and exhaustion made more sense now.  Neither of them had picked up on reasons for those issues other than their hunting lifestyle giving them a rough go of it.  
  
“If I had known…if…” Sam broke off in a cry.  He shivered and gasped as a fresh pulse of blood made its way out of his body.  The sick sticky feeling against his thighs made his stomach roll and he latched onto Dean, pulling the man closer and wishing he could make him feel better like he always did.  “I feel it all…like the baby is slipping away…like it is all my fault.”  
  
Dean didn’t correct him.  The baby was already long gone, but he couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Sam to go through the whole process.  “It isn’t your fault.”  There was a moment where he didn’t know the next move to make, but then instinct kicked in and Dean leaned forward to brush Sam’s hair out of his face.  He couldn’t read anything other than guilt on his brother’s face.  It was weird, seeing Sam knocked down so suddenly.  Sure, Sam was always the ‘baby’ brother, he had gotten under Dean’s skin thousands of times and learned the hard way how to be strong.  
  
But this was different.  
  
Sam was the little brother, but that didn’t make him weak.  The fact that Sam was sitting there, taking the entire weight of the situation on his shoulders while still trying to shield Dean from the brunt of the situation reminded Dean just how far Sam could go before breaking.  
  
The scary part was, Dean wondered if _this_ was exactly how far Sam could go.  
  
They had never, _ever_ , discussed kids.  Whether it was a way of lying to themselves or keeping themselves  ignorant to what they might actually  
want, that conversation had never happened.  It made Dean feel all the more like he didn’t know the right answer.  
  
One hour ago there was no baby.  And technically there still isn’t, but there was for a brief flicker of time.  
  
Did Sam even want the baby anyway?  Did _he_ want the baby?  Dean had no idea, but he let Sam hold onto him as they revolved around one another in the excruciating silence.  
  
Sam hic-coughed and cringed, pain reaching the corners of his eyes.  “It is my fault.  I should have figured that out…should have known.”  He wiped his anguished face with the back of his hand and shivered.  He looked at Dean, voice pleading as if he was convinced Dean thought otherwise.  “If I had known, I would have told you!  I would have never gone on the hunt…I swear.”  Voice cracking, Sam’s wet eyes were trained on his brother’s face.  
  
It was the final blow; Dean couldn’t stand up against it.  Sam was broken, going from the brother he could depend on to someone who seemed so uncertain of Dean’s reaction.  “Sam, I believe you.  I _know_.  I _know_ you would never have done that.”  
  
“ _I would have told you_.”  Sam gasped and tensed his facial muscles.  The hands already at his middle pressed harder to counteract the pain.  It made Dean’s heart break more because it looked like Sam was trying to hold onto something that was barely there anymore.  
  
Without asking or giving a hint of a warning, Dean pulled the sheet aside and took note of the massacre between Sam’s legs.  “Sam,” he sucked in a deep breath, “you know I don’t say this lightly, but maybe we should go to the hospital.”  Sam’s reaction to the suggestion was visible, whole body tensing and eyes going wild around the edges.  “Sam…the blood…”  
  
“No.”  Fisting the sheets, Sam went serious.  
  
Dean expected that.  Hospitals weren’t great places for anyone, but they were exceptionally bad places for uninsured people who used fraudulent identities and were accustomed to only trusting people you could count on one hand.  “I know Sam, but –“  
  
“And tell them what Dean?  That I had a run in with a supernatural creature that no one thinks exists and now I am miscarrying our incestuous baby who I didn’t know I was pregnant with.”  Pressing a palm over his eyes, Sam sighed.  “I can’t.  I just can’t.”  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“No!  I can’t.  I can’t lie about its existence like I am ashamed.  And I can’t deal with people who think I should be.  I can’t, Dean.  I…”  Sam rolled his hips and curled his lip.  “No.”  
  
“Okay, Sam.  Okay.”  Eyes furrowing closer, Dean just gave up.  Despite the blood in the bed and not wanting to jostle Sam, he crawled into the negative space beside Sam, the space he always filled so perfectly.  “We’ll stay here.”  
  
“It just hurts so much right now, hurts in ways I didn’t know I could hurt.”  Sam tensed, fighting the whole process.  
  
“Shhh, let it go Sam.  You have to.”  Running cool hands over Sam’s feverish skin, Dean pushed his hair out of his face and followed a wince of pain down his neck.  
  
“I don’t…I don’t want to.”  
  
Sighing, Dean buried his nose in Sam’s hair, letting out a shaky breath of his own.  “You don’t have much of a choice Sammy.”  
  
“Why?  It’s not fair.  It’s never fair for us.”  Sam shifted and rolled so he could hide under Dean’s neck.  “Why?”  
  
They both knew the answer to that question.  It still stings that Dean can’t do anything about it, that he can’t make things better than they are for Sam.  Instead, he pulled out a cliché explanation, hoping it would be enough of a bandage for now.  “Maybe it just wasn’t the right time.”  
  
“It’s never the right time.  When are these things ever the right time?”  There is a wounded quality to Sam’s voice.  “I mean, you’re right, it wasn’t the right time, _at all_.  But that doesn’t make me wish for it any less.  I just…I can’t explain.  I mean, will it ever be the right time for us?”  
  
“I don’t know Sam.”  It’s the most honest statement Dean had said all night.  He doesn’t know and he never will.  It would be easier to make up a date, a goal they could reach for when magically they would be permitted to have their form of normal, but it would be a lie.  He couldn’t lie to Sam, not like that.  
  
He found himself thinking the same thoughts he knew Sam was dwelling on as well.  Four hours ago he wouldn’t have wanted the baby.  
It is why it made no sense that he wanted one now.  
  
There was no doubt that their lives were going to be easier this way.  The sick part was that Sam and Dean never willingly chose the easy route.  Without being done on purpose, getting pregnant had fit into their lives more accurately than a lot of things.  And like a lot of things, it flitted out of grasp just as predictably.  
  
Sam went silent because he understood what Dean now understood.  
  
There were groans and gasps, the occasional pained moan and shiver from emotional damage, but Sam stayed silent as Dean watched over him.  
  
It left Dean to wash away the blood, to help Sam pass the rest of whatever it was that Dean whisked away.  Though he knew Sam had the shittier end of the deal, coming face to face with Sam’s blood and knowing there was something else in its mix, _their_ child’s blood in its mix, was a pretty close second.  
  
After a while, Dean realized Harvey was right.  He did know when it was over, when he didn’t have to worry that every moan from Sam would bring a new pulse of more than just blood.  He stayed up all night to wipe away the red streaks on Sam’s skin and the tears on his cheeks.  
  
In the morning, he helped Sam find the strength to stand long enough to take a shower.  It was Dean who did most of the work, holding his brother up and washing him down with slow thorough gestures.  They stayed under the steady stream of the shower head longer than they needed but the hot water felt safe.  It was real and comforting enough to bring them back to life or some semblance of it.  
  
Sam faltered once when the water running between his legs left pink swirls to circle the drain and slip down it.  He averted his eyes and turned them towards the ceiling when Dean’s motions, more gentle than he remembered feeling before, helped wash away the rest of the blood.  
  
In the end, Dean got Sam tucked into the other untouched bed.  
  
Thankfully, Sam passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, exhaustion winning out after nagging at both men for the night.  
  
Dean used the time to do something he needed to do despite knowing that it probably wasn’t necessary.  He gathered up all the bloody towels, sheets, Sam’s bloodied clothing and even the cut out swatch from the long grown cold mattress.  Logically, they most likely weren’t much more than a collection of things stained with Sam’s blood, but in Dean’s head there was _so_ much more.  There was something entirely distinct from both him and Sam.  It was enough.  
  
He wiped down the Impala’s interior, adding the rags to the pile.  
  
Then he burned everything in the back of the motel before Sam had a chance to wake up.  
  
It didn’t make the prior night go away but it did destroy evidence of it.  
  
Exhausted, he laid down beside Sam, snaking a hand around his brother’s waist.  Instead of his muscles being lax in sleep, Sam was tense.  Awake and clutching onto Dean’s arm like it was a lifeline.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
There was a nervous hitch of breath before Sam continued.  “In a year, even if it isn’t the right time, can it be the right time?”  
  
The question held so much more than a simple yes or no could live up to.  
  
In a year, it wouldn’t be the right time.  But if one kept waiting for it to be then it was sure to be evasive.  
  
In a year, it wouldn’t be the right time but Dean owed it to Sam and to himself to make sure that it was.  He could do that.  He wanted to do that.  
“Yeah, Sammy.  Yeah.  In a year.”  
  
The room was so silent that Dean heard Sam lick his lips before letting out a sigh.  The exhale held a lot of things but there was a hint of closure at the tail end of it.  
  
Dipping his head, Dean lowered his lips to Sam’s neck, pressing a solid kiss into the exposed curve.  
  
A year was plenty of time to heal and figure out wants they didn’t know they had.  
  
THE END (For now)


End file.
